



Haunt faulty 

Au& dither Poems 


By Albion W. Holden 

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ILLU.STRVTIONS BY 

L. W. Warner 


COPYRIGHT 1910, BY 
ALBION W. HOLDKN 


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PRICE 25 CENTS 


ALBION W. HOLDEN, 
STILLWATER, MINN. 












C.CU278710 















Down South 


■ *) 

; *o 

* In the fall of nineteen hundred and seven, 

>- In September 1 would say, 

1 packed my grip and traveled 
Down South, alack the day. 

$ . 

And now my mind is sore perplexed 
To let impressions find. 

The language that is equal to 
The workings of my mind. 


I've talked with Southerners by the score. 
Which fired my Northern brain. 

And when I told them of the North. 

T hey almost went insane. 


They say that a Northern man 
Is nothing but a fool. 

Hut they have moonshine w hisky stills. 
We have the public school. 


They drink and shoot and swear 
l’ut mostly drinking goes. 

And say, “Why educate the Mack ! 
Think of your Cotton Rows!" 


3 


For sure the “Racial question" 

Oh! North with all your might, 

As treated mostly way down South, 

Is a sin and shame outright. 

There are certain all-fired writers there 
Of lying, vitriolic pen. 

Who write about the Colored Race 
And damn it there and then. 

They try to keep the Negro down 
And say he has no mind. 

But the Colored Race has passed them. 
And left them far behind. 

The Negro—so the fiat goes 
Of sages such as these. 

Has neither Head, nor Heart, nor Soul; 
He’s only, if you please, 

An animal, and should as such 
Be treated like a Beast, 

And being a Negro can not change 
Past history in the least. 

But way down in old Louisiana, 

Where the White Man is supreme, 
He’s Father of many Colored Children, 

Which is no ideal dream. 

* 


4 





So one more spasm and I'm done. 

And here it is in brief. 

I’ve said “Farewell'' to Dixie, 

And find that much relief 

For down in Alabama—where 
The Negroes met to pray, 

1 went, and White Folks gave me 
Three days to get away. 

And so! I wondered seven months. 

In Southland I would say. 

Then packed mv grip and started 
Northward—God bless the day. 

The Southern Race Question 

Dedicated to the Southern Colored Man. 

Dedicated to the Southern Colored Man. 

My colored friend, please listen to me, 

No matter how hard your lot may be. 

He brave, and as every one can see. 

There is a few more years of misery. 

'Till the South is all Mulattoes. 

As you pass along with a broken heart. 

And through your brain, the pain will dart. 

Then for the North you think you'll start. 

For the southern white man’s doing his part, 
'Till the South is all Mulattoes. 


5 


Some awful deed committed by a Southern man. 
That has blackened his face. Oh what a sham 1 
The blood-hounds, then a son of Ham, 

The rope, the shotgun and the coal oil can, 

'Till the South is all Mulattoes. 

Don't von dare to smile at a female white. 

Or they will raise up in all their might. 

And they will lynch you that very night, 

'Then burn you for souvenirs, with delight, 

'Till the South is all Mulattoes. 

You think of your wife who was coaxed away. 
And your daughter that has been led astray. 

You see blue-eyed Colored Kids every day. 
And you know the White Man’s having his way, 
'Till the South is all Mulattoes. 

At the Colored Race they claim they're mad. 

Rut when the twilight gathers. Oh' how sad. 
For then race sociability is mighty bad. 

Will they always be as angry, or rather glad, 

’Till the South is all Mulattoes. 

When the Dixie White Man is beneath the sod. 
Will his little soul go to heaven. Oh, my God! 

Or wander 'round through all eternity, the fraud. 
Would he be satisfied with angels or the Lord, 
Unless thev were all Mulattoes. 


6 



‘The rope, the shotgun and the coaloil 










In a Southern Town 


ft was November, nineteen hundred and nine. 
When I just packed my grip. 

And went down ;tp Holdenville, Oklahoma, 
f will never forget that trip. 

A "cracker”’ from over in Arkansas, 

With him I went to board. 

His wife was always dipping snuff. 

She was as graceful as a toad. 


The water was chuck full of alkali. 
The board was mostly hash. 

And the bed was full of bedbugs. 

Price per week five dollars cash. 

My appetite was on the bum, 

1 was not feeling so very well. 
So I went to board with Davis 
In a first-class Colored Hotel. 


Xow the White People of the South.' 

Are as bigoted as can be. 

They just despise the Colored Race, 
And a Northern Man you see. 


8 


The way they cry about race sociability. 

You’d think they were insane, 

And many are “Daddy” of Colored Kids, 

It’s a right down measly shame. 

Ihit the Southern White People, dare not ride 
In cars, where the Negroes are. 

1 hey are afraid it might lead to marriage, 

They cannot trust themselves so far. 

So they have to pass a non-social law— 

Make themselves a mighty bulwark; 
That law does watch them well by day ; 

We won't mention about the dark. 


They claim that they hate the Negroes 
With all their might and main. 
But the Colored People do the work, 
In the cotton and the cane. 


Oh mv! but they were hopping mad, 

'I'lie mob that came after me. 

They gave me fifteen minutes to “skiddoo 
And so I done the “twenty-three.” 

j 


S 1 


1 swear never more I’ll go South, 
As you this verse I tell. 

About those ignorant cussed fools; 
Down in that Southern— 


9 



Belton, Texas 

July 22 , 1910 

Written from Newspaper Reports. 


Oh have they got a new religion 
Town in Belton. Texas town. 
Their great attraction was a Negro 
That shot a White Man down. 
He was the wonder of the day 
With neither cap nor gown. 


They stripped off all his clothes 
Right in the public square. 

And then exhibited him stark naked 
To all the populace there. 

They had a living picture show 
That made the natives stare. 


The people came from all around. 
They were five hundred strong. 
And gazed upon that undraped Negro 
As he was pulled along. 

While hideous cries did rent the air 
Up from that mighty throng. 


10 


Then they roasted him at the stake, 
Amid yells like hellish fiends. 
They acted like they were crazy, 

W ithout decency so it seems. 
Xow we wonder if they ate him 

When done, with turnip greens, 


They have warned all the Negroes 
To leave the town at once. 

I in t any one that wished to stay 
Must lie a foolish dunce. 

For if those White Folks get them. 
They’ll do some awful stunts. 


People of the South 


The “crackers" of the hills. 
Run moonshine whisky stills 
In Dixie land. 

And on almost any day. 
Puny children are at play 
In the sand. 


11 




They are two hundred years behind. 
Are the “crackers” you will hud 
In the South. 

And the women sure enough. 

They are always dipping snuff 
In their mouth. 


Their laziness caiTt be beat. 
They drag along their feet 
W hen they walk. 

Their language is absurd. 
They drawl out every word 
W hen they talk. 


They live on sassafras tea. 

And coffee made of chicory. 

They are thin. 

Malaria fever causes many groans. 
And you can see their bones 
Through the skin. 


They despise a Northern man 
And abuse him when they can, • 
They are bad. 

They get angry in a minute. 

The devil, he’s not in it 
When they're mad. 


12 


If yon their temper raise. 
They may end your days. 

With a gun. 

The law cuts no figure, 
They'll lynch a poor “nigger," 
Just for fun. 


Down in swampy Arkansaw, 
They just laugh at the law. 
Oh, dear me. 

A White Man Stole a pig. 
They hung him to a big 
Hickory tree. 


They fill up to the brim 
On corn whisky and gin, 

On a lark. 

They damn the Colored Race, 

I hit it’s a different case. 

After dark. 

« 


They are down in the mouth. 

At Mulattocs m the South, 
Isn’t it queer? 

Their talk is mighty lame, 

Do you wonder who’s to blame. 
Shed a tear. 


13 


The Palestine Massacre 

Written from newspaper reports of the killing of innocent ne 
groes by mobs of hot-lieaded whites, at Palestine, Texas, 

July 30, 1910. 

The White Savages of Palestine, Texas. 

Have broken out in a massacre. 

And they have butchered innocent Negroes, 

To the number of twenty-three. 

Mobs of fiendish W hite Men started out. 

On that fatal Saturday night. 

And they rode from cabin to cabin. 

Killing with all their might. 

Three negroes sitting up with the remains 
Of one murdered the night before. 

They were also added to the slaughter. 

And left dead upon the door. 

Every Negro they found they murdered, 

The young and old gray haired. 

Although they piteously cried for mercy. 

Not a single life was spared. 

Those white heathens take great delight, * 

In hearing their victims cry. 

Kill human beings just to see them. 

Writhe and groan and die. 


14 


fhev were also added to the slaughter. 
































































































































































Now those Southern red-handed murderers, 
W ith their lust for human life, 
hey are gloating in their gluttony, 

Over human blood and strife. 


The Southern “White Trash” is becoming 
More and more depraved each day. 
Are getting more licentious and lawless. 
And more criminal in every wav. 


Jack Johnson=Jim Jeffries Fight 

()h ! where is the mighty boilermaker, 

Where is the White Man’s hope? 

Why! Johnson landed on his. jaw. 

And knocked him over the rope. 

He punched him in the short ribs, 

He punched him in the eye, 

And pommeled him all around the ring. 

’Till Jeffries thought he’d die. 


With a smile that wouldn't come off. 

We bet our money on Jim. 

But now we mope the livelong day. 
No more you see that grin. 


\ 


16 


Tribute to Texas 


()h ! ve grand and verdant Texas, 

Seeded down with prickly pear. 

I I ere grows the sharp-leafed Mexican dagger. 
With the cactus here and there. 

()h ! how I love yon dear old Texas, 

With all your desert sand. 

And where you have any fertile soil, 

'There malaria rules the land. 


The sun shines down so terribly hot. 
Hundred and fifteen in the shade. 
Ahd I roast in my bed at night, 

While the bedbugs make their raid. 


Most always there is a strong breeze. 

During both night and day. 

Quite often tornadoes sweep through the land. 
And blow some towns away. 


Oh! ye quiet and smiling Texas, 
With many a cutthroat band. 
If one only gets in an argument. 
They'll shoot him right ofif hand. 




% 


17 


You may talk about your coughs and colds. 
Headache, toothache and miningitis. 

Hut the darndest thing of which I know. 

Is the galanipper mosquitoes. 

At night you enter in your room. 

With heavenly thoughts a ringing. 

Hut you forget them when you hear. 

Them darn bloodsuckers singing. 

Oh! ye fair and beautiful Texas, 

'The home of the hungry flea. 

That dines upon my life’s blood, 

While he skips around in glee. 

Here lives the many-legged centipede. 

And the stinging scorpion, too. 

Then there are jiggers by the millions. 

And stinging lizards quite a few. 

Here is where the tarantula spider lives. 

And the poisonous moccasin snake. 

For all the miserable things on earth. 

Old Texas takes the cake. 

They have rattlesnakes and copperheads. 
And other things that’s bad. 

1 f one don’t get bit and die, 

Other pests will drive them mad. 


18 


Must I he carried to the skies, 

Or down in hell, if you please, 
Or must I leave this blasted state, 
To reptiles and the fleas. 


An Open Question 

Are you Southerners just as angry. 

At the Negroes as you claim? 

Isn't the South “right smart" Mulattoes, 
Where do you place the blame? 

Do tell us Mr. Southerner. 


W hy are there so many Mulattoes, 

In the South that are so light? 
Does the climate fade them out. 

Or can it he, their “daddy's" white? 
Do tell us Mr. Tillman. 


What is the Southern White Man's burden. 

Some seem to have a doubt ? 

Is it his own Colored Children, 

That we hear so much about? 

Do tell us Mr. Dixon. 


19 


Klu Klux Clan 

Written from newspaper reports of the killing - of an innocent 
negro by the Klu Klux Clan at Buena Vista, Miss., 
September 15, 1910. 

That kind of murderous cut-throats! 

Known as the Klu Klux Clan. 

Have continued their bloody work. 

By killing another innocent man. 

Ike Dahmer. a Negro, was on the road 
When taken, driving with his team. 

Then with a knife they butchered him. 

And his blood flowed in a stream. 

They cut all the skin off his face. 

And all the top off his head. 

They shot him full of bullet holes. 

Partly burned him up, when dead. 

Such hellish work by brutal fiends. 

We thought, a thing of the past. 

Beneath the “Starry Banner” of the free. 

At such deeds we stand agast. 

Back, back to the sixteenth century! 

Are the Klu Klux Demons insane? 

Back, back to lust and murder! 

In the dark ages once again. 


20 


And they cut all the top ofi his head.’ 































































































Octoroons Not Negroes 

Written upon the decision of the Supreme Court of the State of 
Louisiana, that an octoroon is not a negro, and that they can now 
enjoy all of the privileges accorded their white kin. June, 1910 

Oh! did you hear the latest news. 

From those kind Southern friends? 

It’s the State of old Louisiana. 

That’s trying to make amends. 

l he Supreme Court jumped on both feet. 

And made a determined stand. 

That Octoroons are not Xegroes, 

But of a different brand. 

They have decided that from now on. 

They will be classed as light. 

Can shake hands with their half-breed brothers, 
Who’s mother, by chance was white. 

Octoroons belong to the White Race, 

Hereafter they’ll sail that bark. 

You see they have lost the color line. 

Yes, they lost it in the dark. 

Aow that decision is just and right. 

For Mulattoes are not to blame. 

But they are a mighty living monument. 

Of the Southern White Man’s shame. 


22 


Now we expect all Southern States, 

To give the Mulattoes a boost. 

For true is that wise old saying, 

“That chickens come home to roost.” 


Race Hatreds 


W hy Colored People should hate us. 
Is very plain to see. 

P»ut why we should hate them. 

Is a conundrum—to me. 


t hey never robbed our cradles. 
They never sold our wives. 
They never lashed our naked hacks. 
Or slandered us, with lies. 


They do not ask for revenge, 

I>ut will forget their pains. 
Are willing to hide their scars. 

And bury the broken chains. 


They are willing to forget. 

Their miseries and their fears. 
The hardships, tears and agonies. 
Of two hundred years. 


23 


DEC 29 1910 





















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